The house felt unfamiliar.
Even though it was the one she had grown up in. Even though her father stood at the door with the same soft warmth she remembered from childhood — the quiet, tea-scented comfort of a man who had always tried to shield her from truths too cruel.
"You okay?" he asked gently, handing her the suitcase Abir had packed.
She only nodded.
But inside, Maholi was breaking again — this time, more silently.
Abir had arranged it all. Told her she needed rest. Turned to her father and said, "Keep her safe. Don't let anyone reach her."
And then he left.
Shooting, he said.
But the news came faster than her healing.
That very night, as she scrolled through headlines with trembling fingers and glassy eyes, she saw it:
"Star Couple to Wed in Winter: Ruchika Sharma and Abir Roy Confirm Long-Rumored Engagement."
A picture followed — his hand resting on Ruchika's back, his lips near her ear. She was laughing. Radiant. Victorious.
And he was… smiling.
Maholi's soul split in half.
The sound of shattering glass brought her father rushing in.
"It's not what you think," he said, kneeling beside her as she crumpled onto the floor.
"Isn't it?" she whispered, her voice hollow. "He used me… he left me… again."
But not this time.
This time, she wouldn't be the girl who waited to be chosen.
She would fight — even if her hands shook.
The Press Conference — One Week Later
Cameras flashed.
Reporters gathered like vultures in suits.
Ruchika stood proudly beside Abir in an ivory designer sari, eyes gleaming with anticipation. The hall buzzed — waiting for Abir to make it official.
He stepped onto the stage.
The lights carved shadows across the sharp lines of his face, but his eyes… they looked hollow. As if sleep hadn't touched him in weeks.
Ruchika looped her arm through his. "Let's announce it, baby," she purred.
But before he could speak—
A voice rang through the room. Steady. Clear. Cold.
"I wouldn't if I were you."
Gasps scattered like sparks.
Maholi stood at the back of the hall — dressed simply in a midnight-blue kurti and jeans, minimal makeup, a folder pressed tightly to her chest.
The guards hesitated. So did the crowd. So did Ruchika, who turned pale beneath her powdered cheeks.
"What is this?" the PR manager barked.
Maholi walked forward. Calm. Fierce. And when she reached the stage, she turned to face the cameras.
"I'm Maholi," she said. "Not a celebrity. Not someone with powerful parents. Just a girl who trusted the wrong people."
Ruchika scoffed. "This is absurd—"
"No. This is absurd," Maholi snapped, opening the folder and holding up printed screenshots, transcripts, and signed statements. "These are emails from your team, Ruchika. Proof you intercepted my messages to Abir. Redirected his calls. Doctored a fake engagement announcement. Leaked it. Lied to the world."
The crowd murmured. Cameras clicked.
"I have more," she said, her voice sharp. "Enough to sue you. Enough to end every brand your father ever bribed into working with you."
Ruchika's fury erupted. She lunged forward—
"Stop."
The word cut through the chaos like a blade.
Abir stepped forward — like a thunderstorm wrapped in a tailored suit. Jaw tight. Eyes blazing. The air shifted. Security stepped back. Silence fell.
His gaze found Ruchika's.
"Don't take one more step," he said, his voice cold steel. "You've done enough."
She froze. "A-Abir… you don't understand—"
"Oh, I understand perfectly," he said. "You tried to destroy Maholi. You manipulated her calls, twisted her emotions, lied to the press, and made her believe she was nothing. That wasn't love. That was cruelty."
"I was just—"
"If she had died that night," his voice cracked, "I would've destroyed your family myself."
Gasps.
He turned slowly, deliberately.
"Your father's business. Your public image. Your career. All hanging by the thin thread of your fake charm. I have enough proof to burn it all down."
He pulled a second folder from his coat pocket and handed it directly to a journalist.
"In there are recordings of your tantrums, your abuse toward staff, bribes, deals, and everything else you've swept under the rug."
Flashbulbs exploded.
"And I'm not done," Abir added, his voice low. "You forced your way into this industry by blackmailing a man twice your age. I have those pictures too."
Ruchika turned ghost-pale.
Abir leaned closer, voice deadly soft.
"You thought threatening Maholi meant I'd stay silent? This is just the beginning. I know about your mother's secrets. Your uncle's smuggling case. Soon, the world will too."
The hall stood frozen.
Then, he turned — to Maholi.
To the only thing that mattered.
He stepped toward her. Not as the star. Not as the scandal. But as a man who had finally torn down every wall.
"I should've done this long ago," he said, facing her with nothing but truth. "Maholi… I'm sorry. For every second I made you feel like you weren't the one."
She blinked, breathless, as he took the mic.
"Let me make this clear: I love her. I love Maholi. She's not a rumor. Not a rebound. Not a PR play. She's my reality. The only one that ever mattered."
The crowd gasped.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "You… love me?"
He stepped off the stage and into the light beside her — where she stood, fragile and fierce.
"I thought you were only keeping your promise to my mother," she whispered. "I thought that's all this was."
"It started with her," he said gently. "But it didn't end there. You happened."
Her eyes searched his. "Then why didn't you say it?"
"Because I wanted to protect you. But you didn't wait to be protected. You fought. You stood your ground. You came here and exposed the truth — not just for yourself, but for me."
He took her hands.
"I had the evidence. I was planning to take Ruchika down. But I didn't have what you had — your fire."
His voice broke, raw with emotion.
"And I've never loved anything more than the way you love me."
Tears glimmered in her eyes.
The hall held its breath.
And this time, when he cupped her face, she didn't pull away.
"Come home," he whispered. "To our home."
She nodded, her voice trembling.
"Only if you never shut me out again."
"I swear," he said, forehead resting against hers. "No more silence. Just us."
And as the cameras flashed, the crowd no longer saw a scandal.
They saw a woman who refused to be broken.
And a man who finally chose her — in front of the world.